“I didn’t ever get the receipt of it at all,” said Mr. Gubb.
“An oversight,” said the Bald Impostor. “I’ll send you one the minute I get back to Chicago. I’ll pick up the Bald Impostor at Derlingport this afternoon—if—Mr. Gubb, I am ashamed to make an admission to you. I—”
The Bald Impostor sat on the edge of his chair and pearls of perspiration came upon his brow. He took out his silk handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
“Go right on ahead and say whatever you’ve got upon your mind to say,” said Mr. Gubb.
“Well, the fact is,” said the false Mr. Burns nervously, “I’m short of cash. I need just one dollar and eighty cents to get to Derlingport!”
“Why, of course!” said Philo Gubb heartily. “All of us get into similar or like predicaments at various often times, Mr. Burns. It is a pleasure to be able to help out a feller deteckative in such a time and manner. Only—”
“Yes?” said the Bald Impostor nervously.
“Only I couldn’t think of giving you only the bare mere sum to get to Derlingport,” said the graduate of the Rising Sun Detective Agency’s Correspondence School of Detecting, generously. “I couldn’t think of letting you start off away with anything less than a ten-dollar bill.”